


Dedue's Allowed Some Stupid Choices

by Antimonicacid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, Kinda?, M/M, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Trans Dedue Molinaro, Trans Male Character, Trans Sylvain Jose Gautier, bottom dedue, dedue has a praise kink, no beta we die like dedues standards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antimonicacid/pseuds/Antimonicacid
Summary: “My point,” Sylvain tells a red faced Dedue who, tragically, is unable to interrupt this train wreck of a conversation, “is that we pay taxes and what the fuck is the point in doing our civic duty if you can’t even get your pussy ate.”Dedue lets his head drop onto the table with a small thud. The hard wood surface feels nice against his flushed skin as long as he ignores the mysterious stickiness. He focuses on blocking out the noise of the pub. He focuses on finding his happy place.Dedue gets his pussy ate because that's what friends are for
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 20
Kudos: 151





	Dedue's Allowed Some Stupid Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Dedue and Sylvain are both trans men just so that's clear dfkjnvdfjk also I did not edit this but that won't stop me from building up the syldue fandom w my bare hands

Once during the war Dimitri had asked Dedue why he liked Sylvain.

“He’s a wonderful friend, a cherished ally, and an upstanding man,” Dimitri had assured him. “That said, he can be a bit…. ah…” his voice trailed off as he raised his eyebrows, trying to find the politest way to finish his sentence.

“I do not see what the conflict is,” Dedue stated, not rising to the bait.

“Well,” Dimitri pursed his lips contemplating. “I would say the conflict is that, he’s, well he is Sylvain after all, and as much as I love him, he can be rather irritating.”

“I do not often find him irritating.”

“Well, yes maybe irritating is the wrong word,” he squinted his eye as he tried a few alternatives. “Obnoxious? Crass? Insensitive?”

Dedue shook his head. “I understand where you are coming from, and while Sylvain does embody many of those traits, he rarely displays them towards me. His company is more often pleasant than it is…” this time he was the one coming up empty.

“Infuriating?” Dimitri offered with a snort.

At that time Dedue had meant what he said. He did enjoy spending time with Sylvain. From the academy days onwards, Sylvain was one of the first of his classmates to treat Dedue as a human, and years later he still felt gratitude for that.

More so than that, Sylvain was someone with surprising depth. He often had books to recommend or play tickets to share. He enjoyed the arts as much as he enjoyed philandering. Or, perhaps that was more generous an exaggeration than it was true, but regardless his love of culture was profound.

They got along well, and Dedue found his presence refreshing. While it was hard to believe, Sylvain was capable of wit not centered in vulgarity, and conversation with him was genuinely stimulating.

That didn’t mean Dimitri was wrong, however. By the grace of the deities, it did not mean Dimitri was wrong.

“I’m just saying,” Sylvain says even though Dedue really wishes he wouldn’t. “We pay taxes, right?”

Dedue sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose while raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the bar patrons. “Yes, we do pay taxes, but I do not see the correlation here.”

“Then let me explain–“

Dedue would prefer if he didn’t, and instead of listening he works on chugging as much of his beer that he can. Unfortunately, he is not a talented drinker, and to his chagrin he ends up choking and sputtering his drink all over himself.

Sylvain laughs and slaps him hard on the back. A few people in the pub stare as Dedue tries to both settle his cough and shoo Sylvain away from trying to break his spine.

“My point,” Sylvain tells a red faced Dedue who, tragically, is unable to interrupt this train wreck of a conversation, “is that we pay taxes and what the fuck is the point in doing our civic duty if you can’t even get your pussy ate.”

Dedue lets his head drop onto the table with a small thud. The hard wood surface feels nice against his flushed skin as long as he ignores the mysterious stickiness. He focuses on blocking out the noise of the pub. He focuses on finding his happy place.

“Shit, did I kill you?” Sylvain asks while poking at the back of Dedue’s head. “Come onnnn,” he whines while repeatedly tapping him. “This is what does it? I’ve known you for how long, and _this_ is the thing that breaks you?”

“I am not broken,” Dedue says directly into the table. “I am merely thinking.”

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“It’d be impolite to say.”

“Is it dick?” Sylvain asks without a shred of dignity to his name.

Dedue turns his head and fixes a stoic expression on his face. “No, it is murder.”

Sylvain, a man who treats death with far too much levity, only laughs in response.

Deciding he had enough with the theatrics (really this level of silliness was unbecoming of the Royal Guard) Dedue picks his head up and straightens his posture.

He clears his throat and asks, “Are we done discussing this now?”

A moment of quiet passes as Sylvain taps his finger against his chin in false contemplation. “Nah,” he says while leaning forward on his elbows. “I think we should unpack this a little bit.”

Dedue sighs through his nose but allows it. “I do not have time for relationships,” he tells him simply.

“Bullshit,” Sylvain rolls his eyes. “We have nothing but time. The war is over, paperwork is boring, and policymaking is so, so, so fucking slow. I am pretty sure you can pencil in some free time in your tiny floral planner or whatever. In between gardening at noon and making awkward small talk with Dimitri at two.”

Dedue frowns. “The small talk between His Majesty and I is not awkward. Why would it be awkward?”

Sylvain waves for a waitress to bring them another round of drinks, a polite gesture since Dedue had spilled half of his. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but literally everything you and Dimitri do is awkward.” He nods solemnly, as if he were a doctor giving his patient terrible news. “It’s a curse Dimitri has struggled with it since birth and at this point in time I doubt that a cure is out there. Awkwardness just drips from the two of you, there’s no avoiding it.”

Dedue doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I do not know how to respond to that,” he tells him.

Sylvain slaps him on the shoulder. It feels like pity. “It’s okay, Dedue. We’ll get through this together.” He pauses briefly to smile as the waitress drops off their drinks, making sure to wink and wave as she walks away. “Now, back to your sex life.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m just saying! We pay taxes!”

“Our tax dollars are not used to fund my personal life.”

“Then what is the point of our economy?” Sylvain whines and slumps all the way down in his chair.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dedue glances a bit judgmentally at Sylvain’s dramatics. “I’m sorry if my lack of romantic involvement is upsetting to you.” 

Sylvain scrambles to sit up. “Bullshit, no you’re not.”

“That’s fair. I am not.”

“Okay, Dedue,” Sylvain says while grabbing both of his shoulders. He looks deadly serious in a way that is particularly irksome and Dedue simmers silently at Dimitri’s accuracy.

“Dedue,” Sylvain shakes his shoulders a bit and snaps Dedue out of his thoughts. “If you have no interest in romantic partners then that’s okay.”

Dedue’s lips tighten slightly. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he admits. “That said, some of us do try and complete our work, and my schedule is far too busy–“

He’s cut off by Sylvain once again shaking him. Dedue frowns and stiffens his posture to be completely unmovable. He holds back from smiling at Sylvain’s frustrated complaints.

Giving up, Sylvain instead cups Dedue’s face and smushes both his cheeks.

Dedue slaps his hands away.

Sylvain cries out and kicks at his chair. Dedue glares.

“Are you a child?” he asks and Sylvain shrugs.

“Are you a virgin?” he counters.

Dedue kicks his chair and flinches when the wood splinters.

“I’m just saying,” Sylvain holds both his hands up in surrender as he stares wide eyed at the damaged wood.

“Please stop saying things,” Dedue rubs his temples.

“If you have no interest in sex, whether that’s for life in general, or outside of wedlock, then sure that’s cool. You do you and live your truth.”

He knows Sylvain’s being honest, and he knows that Sylvain will back off if he seriously asks him to. This somehow makes the entire conversation feel even more mortifying.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dedue admits with a grimace.

Sylvain claps his hands together like a child. “Okay, so are you a–“

“No,” Dedue cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Okay, can I ask who you–“

“Absolutely not.”

It’s a bit satisfying to see Sylvain’s face droop in disappointment.

“Fine, fine,” Sylvain waves his hand in dismissal. “But it has been a while?”

Dedue huffs, too exhausted to give real word replies.

Sylvain’s fine with interpreting his nonverbal responses and cocks his head while thinking. “Okay,” he says finally. “Why?”

That’s a good question. He ponders it while taking a reasonably paced sip of his drink. He places his mug down and avoids Sylvain’s patient eye. “It is… more effort than it is worth to find a partner for…” he vaguely waves his hands in the air.

Sylvain nods. “Okay, I know it seems daunting, but it’s really not that hard. First of all, you’re hot.”

“Thank you?”

“No problem. Really though, I know some parts can be a bit more challenging, but otherwise what’s so scary about it?” he asks with the easy confidence only a slut could have.

Dedue sighs. “There’s just certain basic stipulations required for me to be able to… engage with a person.”

“Okay, shoot,” Sylvain leans in ready to listen.

“A viable partner must have the following attributes,” Dedue ticks each one off on his fingers. “They cannot be racist, they cannot be transphobic, they must pass a basic inspection to ensure they’re not an enemy of the state that is using me as an entry point to assassinate the king, and I have to find their personality at least a little bit tolerable.”

It’s a good list, and Sylvain nods along to each point as he takes it in. He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “Alright, gonna be real with you, I forgot about at least half of those, and honestly you may have some good points there.”

“Thank you for your validation. I’m unsure what I would do without it,” he deadpans.

Sylvain winks and Dedue rolls his eyes without malice.

“I have some solutions,” Sylvain assures him.

“Do you really?” Dedue asks.

“No but give me two minutes and I can think of some.”

That at least makes Dedue exhale an almost laugh. “Thank you for your concern,” he tells him earnestly. “But I will be fine on my own.”

Sylvain pouts, unwilling to be defeated. “Okay, but I do actually have a handful of trans dating tips so we can write me down as useful on one front,” he taps the table while trying to pull up more solutions. “Felix loves doing background checks on people, I think he’s just nosey and bored, but also too stupid to piece together that it’s for a bootycall so consider him discreet.”

Dedue’s reluctant to admit that he appreciates Felix’s lack of faith in his sex life, but he finds himself grateful, nonetheless.

Sylvain looks up towards the ceiling as he makes his way down the list. “And then I don’t know how to fix institutional racism,” he cringes a bit and mouths _sorry_ , “but also sometimes people are– okay, no, I’ll do us both a favor and not try to ally my way out of this one.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Sylvain says while giving him a thumbs up. “But! Also! Tolerable people exist! Probably?” he scratches the back of his head. “How high are your standards for what you consider tolerable?” he asks.

“They are rapidly decreasing,” Dedue says truthfully.

It’s an acceptable enough answer for Sylvain, and he nods thinking of his options. “Okay, this can’t be _that_ hard,” he complains. “Seriously, look at you! I’m just saying–“

“I really wish you would stop saying.”

“But you’re kinda super hot.” Sylvain sighs and rests his chin on the table. “Like really, _really_ hot.”

A headache is beginning to form as the echo of Dimitri’s voice reverberates _I told you so_ against the inside of Dedue’s skull.

“Are you done?” he asks. “I am ready to exit this conversation.”

Sylvain groans, but agrees. “Fine, fine, whatever you want.” He squints as he looks Dedue up and down. “I mean shit, dude,” he says exasperated at the world. “I’d fuck you in a heartbeat.”

Dedue flushes but resists the urge to hide away. It’s an offhanded comment said with the easy energy of an easy person, but that doesn’t stop it from being heartfelt and honest.

Maybe Dedue’s just lonely, or perhaps Dedue is just stupid. Either way he shrugs his shoulders and replies bluntly, “Sure, why not?”

Sylvain already has his mouth half open and ready to move to next topic by the time Dedue’s agreement catches up to his brain. He snaps his mouth closed, opens it to find it still empty of words, and closes it again.

“Wait,” Sylvain says finally. “Seriously?”

* * *

There are many preconceived notions people make in regard to Dedue. Most of the time these assumptions are rather unsavory and Dedue prefers to ignore them. Sometimes they’re more positive. He’s been told many times by others that he is someone admirable. He’s been praised for his strength, intelligence, and caring nature. The first few times had made him blush and deny it, but now it’s something he takes pride in.

On more than a few occasions, someone has commented on Dedue’s attention to detail, thoroughness, and general level head. He’s not known to make careless mistakes. That, however, does not mean he doesn’t have moments of complete and utter idiocy.

“Hey,” Sylvain calls from the entrance of the palace’s greenhouse. The greenhouse is much larger than the one at the monastery, and Sylvain waits patiently as Dedue walks to the front to meet him.

“Hello,” Dedue says.

“So,” he rocks back on his heels and clucks his tongue. “About last night…” his voice trails off as he raises his eyebrows.

There’s no change in Dedue’s facial expression as he asks, “What about it?”

“We were drinking,” Sylvain recaps.

“Yes, that makes sense for us to have done at a pub.”

Sylvain nods wisely, “Yeah, it does. So, we were drinking and conversation about your romantic life somehow had come up and-“

“Are you going to summarize the entire night?” Dedue asks while looking back to the unfinished plot of earth he was tending to.

Insulted, Sylvain holds his hand to his chest. “I’m trying to be delicate!”

A grimace begins to form at the edges of Dedue’s mouth. “Delicacy doesn’t suit you, although I appreciate the attempt.”

Rolling his eyes, Sylvain tries again. “Okay, so it kinda sounded like you wanted to smash last night and I can’t tell if I either hallucinated that or if you were just overcome with drunken lust or if-“

“Please stop.”

“Okay.”

“I think you may be spiraling slightly.”

“I think you may have a point,” Sylvain pops his lips. “Okay, I just wanted to say that it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to something you said while drinking.”

“Okay,” Dedue agrees as his attention trails back to the unplanted bulbs a few dozen feet away.

A grin breaks out on Sylvain’s face and he claps Dedue on the shoulder. “Cool cool cool. So, we’re all good?”

“Yes?” Dedue answers. He thinks he’ll plant the white tulips near the front. He was considering the red, but that might be a bit too controversial this early in the season. “I still want to have sex with you.”

Dedue doesn’t make careless mistakes. He carefully and thoughtfully picks out what stupid shit he’s going to do and then he sticks to it. Whether that’s taking the crowned prince’s place for execution or agreeing to hook up with Sylvain Gautier himself.

When Sylvain flushes red it’s a surprise. He covers his face with his hands and shouts “Why phrase it like that!” in a muffled voice.

“How am I supposed to phrase it?” Dedue asks.

“I don’t know! Flirt with me a little maybe?” Sylvain slides his hands away so he can pout. “I’m a lady, ya know.”

“No, you are not.”

The serious tone makes Sylvain laugh. “Okay, you’re right I’m not. I’m a… delicate flower?”

Dedue turns and walks back to where he left his gardening tools out.

“Hey!” Sylvain chases after him. “Say I’m a delicate flower!”

“I’d rather not, thank you,” Dedue tells him kneeling in front of the ready to be planted bulbs.

“Alright, but like I was saying,” Sylvain squats next to him and observes his work. “It’s not like I’m pressuring you or anything. You’re not obligated to–“

“It _really_ feels as if I’m being rejected, somehow.” Dedue interrupts him. “Which is ironic since _you_ propositioned _me_.”

“Okay okay okay!” Sylvain laughs and shakes his head. “I’m trying to be considerate, but if you’re down then I’m down. Like I said, you’re kinda really fucking hot.”

It’s hard to avoid blushing at the compliment and Dedue focuses on removing his gloves as a distraction. “Alright,” he agrees. “Do you have your calendar for the upcoming week or so available?” he asks while pulling a small planner from his back pocket.

“Seriously?” Sylvain squints at the small book. “Wait, you’re _actually_ gonna pencil in dick between afternoon tea and cooking lessons?”

There is an open availability after his Tuesday tea with Dimitri, but he’s not going to mention that. “I have a busy schedule. In theory, you should as well.”

Groaning, Sylvain reluctantly agrees and quickly lists out a few dates and times until the two had settled on one.

“Alright, Thursday evening,” Sylvain solidifies the meeting. “I guess I’ll reserve an inn then.”

The idea of an inn feels a bit… seedy in a way Dedue doesn’t particularly enjoy. “Why an inn?” he asks.

“Ion’t know,” Sylvain shrugs his shoulders. “Do you wanna have sex in the palace three doors away from Dimitri?”

An inn sounds _lovely._

#

“Ah, this is one of your favorites, isn’t it?” Dimitri asks while Dedue spoons some of the loose leaf tea into the pot.

“Yes. The ginger has a nice flavor, but also several medicinal purposes. It’s really quite interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” Dimitri agrees and smiles.

It’s quiet as the two wait for the tea to steep. Dedue can’t help but wonder if this is what Sylvain meant by “awkward small talk”.

Clearing his throat Dedue asks “Any plans for the evening?”

It strays from the usual path of their conversation, and Dimitri seems a bit surprised by the detour, but eases into it happily, nonetheless. “Some paperwork here and there. A few readings I have to finish by tomorrow afternoon, but all things considered, a relatively quiet evening in. Why?” Dimitri asks and Dedue freezes.

“No reason in particular,” he answers while removing the steeped tea leaves. “I was just curious about your evening.”

Dimitri nods and thanks him when his tea is poured. “Like I said, it’s a shockingly slow evening. If you’re free you and I could–“

“I’m busy,” Dedue’s reply is far too abrupt.

“Oh?” Dimitri cocks his head. “What are your plans for tonight?”

It’s a follow up question that Dedue isn’t prepared for despite this situation being one he manufactured for himself. He sips his tea to give himself some time to think, and when he places his teacup down and still has nothing, he’s disappointed but at least satisfied by the quality of the brew. “Nothing much, what about you?”

Dimitri furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but his need to be polite at all times makes sure he responds. “Oh, not much. Some paperwork and readings. A slow evening, really.”

“Well, it seems like a busy night.”

“Not really?” Dimitri tells him. “Although you seem to have one?”

Once again, Dedue sips his tea in place of an answer. This time he’s able to think of an excuse. “Yes. A few personal projects. Mercedes had mailed me some knitting material that I was hoping to work on.”

The mention of Mercedes lights up Dimitri’s face. “Oh, that fantastic. She taught me a few things here and there. If you want, you’re free to bring your supplies to my chambers and–“

“It’s more a solitary project, really,” Dedue resists the urge to flinch at the way Dimitri’s face drops.

“Oh, I see,” the corners of Dimitri’s eye crinkles as he gives him a small forced grin. “Well, I hope you enjoy your personal time. It sounds like a lot of fun. A bit of time alone is always nice.”

Which, of course, makes Dedue feel like garbage. “Yes. It is a… Duscur tradition,” Dedue tells him. “Time alone to craft for others. Yes. I haven’t done it in a while, but I was hoping to reconnect with the culture and, well…”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Dimitri claps his hands together. “I haven’t heard of that practice before. If you have time, I would love to hear more of it, although you do not have to, but it seems absolutely lovely.”

“Perhaps,” Dedue scowls as he makes a mental reminder to come up with a fake cultural reason for knitting alone. “I do not remember much about it, but I’ll be sure to bring you the finished product,” he makes it worse for himself without thinking.

Dimitri smiles appreciatively. “Oh, don’t worry about me. That is very kind of you I–“ he clears his throat. “Naturally, I would cherish anything you create.”

“Yes. Anytime, Your Highness. Please don’t expect much, however.” Dedue makes a mental note to find time to knit Dimitri a shitty scarf before their morning tea.

* * *

It’s a bit after six when Dedue meets Sylvain in town. The weather is pleasant, and Dedue had spent the last half hour sitting in the town plaza counting stitches.

“Is that for me?” Sylvain asks.

“No, it’s for The King.”

“Ah,” Sylvain tries to pull at a piece of yarn but is slapped away. “You’re breaking my heart. Making presents for other women. I didn’t know you to be such a–“

“I feel as if you should choose your next words carefully.”

Sylvain shuts his mouth. He looks more closely at Dedue’s knitting and asks, “What is it?”

“I do not know.”

“Alright,” Sylvain hums lightly. “So, how are you today?”

The sigh Dedue lets out is far heavier than is appropriate. “I am fine, how are you?” he asks snappily.

“Good?” He scratches the back of his head and looks around. “Uhh, you good? You seem a bit irritated.”

Guilt overtakes his bad mood quickly. “Yes, I am fine. My apologies I am just–“ he sighs. “I have to knit Dimitri a heritage piece before the morning or else he’ll incorrectly believe that I am not fond of his company.”

This doesn’t clear anything up and Sylvain, completely bewildered, asks him, “What the fuck does any of that mean?”

* * *

Sylvain’s still laughing by the time they’re unlocking the door to their room. “You can’t just make up holidays, Dedue! He’s going to make it national and then all the banks are going to be closed tomorrow so we can all knit together!”

Dedue sighs and tries to correct him while closing the door behind them. “It’s not a holiday, it’s a cultural practice.”

It doesn’t work and Sylvain lets out another belly laugh as he crosses the room. “Why you gotta do Dimitri like that? I bet he’s buying you knitting supplies right now. I bet he’s donating yarn to The Duscur Relief Center as we speak.” Sylvain flops back on the bed and raises his arms to the ceiling. “You’re going to make him accidentally start an international incident as he implies that The People of Duscur’s defining trait is knitting alone in the dark!”

Dedue scowls while removing his shoes at the doorway. He wants to tell Sylvain to take his off too, but he knows Fodlan has different customs when it comes to cleanliness inside the house.

“I was improvising,” he defends himself. “I try to not make it a habit to lie to His Majesty.”

“Really? That’s my favorite hobby, personally.” There’s a few seconds of silence as Dedue glowers at him before Sylvain sits up and yells “I’m kidding! Please, can you turn the Royal Guard off? You’re so cranky when you’re trying to make sure I don’t commit treason.”

Dedue’s shoulder slump a fraction of a centimeter. “My apologies. I understand that my mood has been less than favorable today.”

“It’s fine it’s fine,” Sylvain waves his hand dismissing him. “I won’t hold it against you this time, unless you want me to,” he says with a wink.

The expression on Dedue’s face must be telling because Sylvain bursts out laughing again. “Okay! Sorry! I’ll tone it down!”

“Thank you,” Dedue says sincerely. He takes a few steps towards the bed but doesn’t sit beside him. The room Sylvain had reserved for the night was decent. Nothing fancy, but far from the dingy hovel Dedue had feared it could be. The bed was adequately sized, something he had worried about as well, and the interior was a bit tacky, but modest enough.

“Pull out couch,” Sylvain said pointing towards a sofa. “That way we’re technically occupying a room with two ‘beds’ in case anyone recognizes us and makes a fuss.” He sounds proud of himself for the foresight.

The bed creaks when Dedue sits beside him, his weight pulling the frame down slightly and making Sylvain’s thigh slide the few inches to touch his own. He places his hands at his knees, fully aware of how stiff and awkward his posture is, but unable to figure out one that is more relaxed.

“This is really awkward,” Dedue says awkwardly.

“Oh, yeah definitely,” Sylvain’s chipper agreement knocks the wind out of him. “I was politely ignoring that, but since you brought it up, fuck the Goddess this is awkward.”

Heat flushes alongside his neck and cheeks as Dedue avoids eye contact. “My apologies.”

“Don’t apologize too much,” Sylvain knocks his elbow into his side. “It doesn’t make it any less awkward.”

“I suppose.”

Sylvain hums and swings his legs like a child over the bed’s edge. It reminds Dedue to be irritated about the shoes, but he pushes that feeling back down. “Okay, so it was gonna be awkward no matter what,” Sylvain comforts him. “Honestly, I expected far more awkwardness. You’re being a real trooper right now!”

“That is incredibly condescending,” Dedue tells him.

“Oh shit,” Sylvain cringes. “Uhh, my bad. Hey! Now I’m the awkward one! Look at us go!”

It’s enough to make Dedue snort out a tiny almost laugh. “Congratulations,” he says.

“Anytime. I’m always available to make social situations that much worse,” he tells him grinning.

The way Sylvain smiles is a good reminder for why Dedue enjoys his company. It’s an easy grin for an easy person. Not just in terms of relationships but talking with Sylvain is almost always easygoing. There’s normalcy here and if Dedue’s being truthful, he doubts he’d be able to strike up this type of arrangement with any of his other friends. Not just because Sylvain is someone willing to indulge him, but because Sylvain is someone he is surprisingly comfortable with.

All of that is enough to make Dedue forget sometimes that his friend is actually fairly attractive. If he were to mimic Sylvain’s words then he’s, like, kinda super hot, ya know?

“Alright,” Sylvain says while pushing back his red hair. “Before we do basically anything we should probably run over a few things. Boundaries and stuff.”

Dedue side eyes him a bit. “In terms of what?”

Sylvain laughs. “Wait, no I’m not saying we have to pick safe words or asking how hard you want to be spanked–“

“Sylvain–“

“It’s mainly for myself,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes. His knee bounces up and down in a way that comes across as nervous. “I just don’t like being touched much, in general. Some areas are better than others, but I’m probably not going to ask you to, uh, reciprocate or, whatever.”

Dedue realizes that Sylvain is a bit nervous. “Okay,” he tells him, not entirely sure of how to affirm him stronger than that although he would like to.

“I’m just a control freak about my own body,” he says with a laugh. “I promise I’m still having fun even if I don’t want you to touch my dick.”

Dedue squeezes his eyes shut as he feels his face start to burn. It’s embarrassing to talk frankly, even though he genuinely appreciates the assurance.

“Also, I brought sheets,” the way Sylvain rushes his sentence out reveals far more embarrassment for this than any other part of their conversation.

“Why?” Dedue asks incredulous.

“Inns are dirty!” Sylvain defends himself in a way that makes it obvious he has had this conversation with many other people before. “How are we supposed to know who washed these last? We’re _literally_ here to have sex and I bet there’s other people before this or murderers or shower avoidant bandits or-“

“Okay!” Dedue stops him. “That’s fine. I didn’t think of that. Thank you.” He suddenly feels a bit more grossed out sitting on the bed.

He helps Sylvain change the sheets over and listens politely while Sylvain continues to rant about how everyone should think more about where they sleep.

“One more time though,” Sylvain says and Dedue sighs and sits on the bed. “It’s fine if you want to stop.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Dedue tells him once again.

“I’m just making sure,” Sylvain defends himself while crawling onto the bed next to him. “If there’s something you don’t like then tell me. If there something you do like,” he places a hand on Dedue’s shoulder, their actual proximity more noticeable as Sylvain leans forward only a few inches so he can place a kiss on the edge of his jaw. “Then also tell me.”

His voice is lower than before. It’s a reverberation that comes from his chest, a switch that is far more immediate than Dedue had expected and has his pulse thumping in response as he truly realizes for the first time that this is actually happening.

It’s not bad though, the way Sylvain molds his palm against Dedue’s bicep and strokes in a way that is a compliment in and of itself. It’s not bad, the way Sylvain peppers kisses along the length of his jaw, following the curve to the expanse of his neck, and flicking his tongue out like a lightning strike. It’s not bad, the way Sylvain pinches his chin to tilt his head with a commanding grip, allowing him to suck at the tiny sliver of exposed brown skin between the base of his neck and collar.

It’s actually _really_ good. Dedue closes his eyes, a small sigh escaping him while Sylvain climbs into his lap to straddle him. He strokes his hand down Dedue’s arm before positioning Dedue for him to hold onto to his waist. He allows it, grabbing his waist with one large hand and holding him steady as Sylvain starts to unbutton Dedue’s jacket. The jacket is shrugged off and Sylvain’s hands are on him, lifting the bottom of his much thinner shirt, and grazing all over his torso. Along his back, tracing scars and muscles, and squeezing appreciatively at the softness on his sides. He pushes the hem of his shirt up and Dedue raises his arms to help pull it all the way off.

“Fuck you’re built,” Sylvain stares openly at every exposed inch of Dedue’s body. “Holy shit,” his voice trails off into a groan as he buries his face into the crook of his neck and _sucks._

Dedue inhales sharply. With tentative hands he cups the back of Sylvain’s head, weaving his fingers into the surprising softness of his hair. He holds him there while Sylvain kisses, sucks, and bites at the small dip at his collar.

Sylvain drags his hands down from shoulders to waist, his fingernails scraping lightly before ghosting their way back up in gentle strokes. The way the slightest touch is enough to make Dedue shudder is a testament to how much he probably needed this. He can feel Sylvain shuffle around as he pulls his own jacket off and Dedue cracks an eye to see.

Sylvain grins, but doesn’t say anything when he sees Dedue peeking. He winks instead before pulling his shirt off and rushing forward for their lips to meet. The kiss is forceful, it takes Dedue by surprise as he’s knocked onto his back with Sylvain on top.

Sylvain’s the one to tangles his fingers into Dedue’s hair this time, his other hand cupping Dedue’s jaw, and his torso hot against his. His lips are coaxed apart as Sylvain licks into them. It’s warm and soft, Sylvain’s breath on him, as he vibrates a moan into Dedue’s open mouth.

Once again, Dedue’s hand is moved for him as Sylvain pulls him to grab his thigh. He squeezes, making Sylvain buck his hips down and his grip tighten in his thick grey white hair.

A gasp catches in Dedue’s throat that he swallows down. He can’t help but spread his legs, only a fraction of an inch that Sylvain picks up on quickly, pushing Dedue’s thick thighs further apart so he can nestle his body in between. Again, he tightens his fist in Dedue’s hair, his grin obvious against Dedue’s open lips as he inhales at the sensation. He kisses the corner of his mouth while mumbling something Dedue doesn’t quite catch, too distracted as Sylvain grinds against him in slow, swooping movements.

“Like that?” Sylvain asks against Dedue’s neck. His tongue drawing lazy circles on a spot he had sucked raw earlier.

Dedue squeezes his thigh again, this time pushing him forward in encouragement for him to exert more pressure. “Yes,” he answers, his voice shockingly stable. “That is adequate.”

A rumbling laugh overtakes the sensation of Sylvain’s necking. “You sound like a field report,” Sylvain complains.

Dedue huffs and doesn’t respond.

“Aw,” Sylvain whines. “It’s cute, don’t be mad.” He nuzzles into him. “Kinda like a sexy drill sergeant or something.”

“It’s better when you don’t talk,” Dedue tells him while pulling him down for an even longer, deeper kiss.

Dedue should probably be satisfied with this. The feeling of being kissed, the warmth of another person in his arms, and the dizzying sensation of hips rolling to meet his. It probably should be enough, but the more he receives the greedier he becomes. He holds tight on Sylvain’s shoulder, wiggling his hips in search for a greater, more satisfying pressure.

Sylvain breaks away from the kiss. His hair is wild and his lips a raw red as he pants slightly, his chest rising and falling quickly. He’s smaller than Dedue, but that’s because most people are. His shoulders are still broad, his torso solid with muscles that are deceivingly soft, alongside a splattering of freckles he hadn’t expected.

He realizes that he is staring when he finally notices Sylvain doing the same. It’s difficult to not compare their bodies to one another. The same war made strength. A collection of scars scratched into their skin from swords and hatchets and fire and more. He can see the way Sylvain’s top surgery connected the two crescent scars in the center, and he can’t help but find the different shape to be an interesting contrast to his own.

“Ugh, you’re hot,” Sylvain summarizes for both of them before hungrily placing kisses down the length of his torso. He glides past his chest fast–something Dedue’s grateful for–but takes the time to run his tongue along his abs. Kissing the top of the V shape poking from Dedue’s waistband, before hooking his fingers around a belt loop and slowly, agonizingly, pulling down.

Dedue lifts his hips to help and Sylvain manages to pull his pants most of the way off. Enough so he can hook his arm around one of Dedue’s thigh and push it back. He nuzzles his face into it, kissing the sensitive inner skin upwards and closer until he’s pushing the leg of his boxers up, getting closer and closer and _closer._

“Is this okay?” Sylvain asks, cupping Dedue through his boxers and rubbing slightly.

Dedue gives a curt nod, before realizing Sylvain can’t see it that well. “Yes,” he tells him through clenched teeth. “It’s okay.”

Sylvain nods, leaning his head against the wall of Dedue’s thigh as he pushes his fingers more firmly, parting him slightly so a wetness can seep through the cloth and onto his fingertips.

Dedue breathes through his nose as Sylvain strokes him. He can feel all the muscles in his body clench tight, his breath becoming labored, as a hot coil forms in his stomach.

“Do you want me to do something else?” Sylvain asks, a clear implication present as he licks at the skin on his thigh.

“It’s up to you,” Dedue answers simply.

Sylvain nips at him. “Actually, it’s up to you.”

Dedue huffs, his only answer being a slight jerk of his hips.

“Okay okay okay,” Sylvain laughs and pulls the waistband of Dedue’s boxers down. He has to move to the side as Dedue shimmies them the rest of the way off, and Sylvain takes the chance to remove his own pants, leaving only his boxers on.

“Ugh, you’re hot,” Sylvain complains while positioning himself back in between his legs. He runs his fingers along the outside of Dedue’s lips. They come away slick. “So, you do like me,” he declares.

“What do you mean?” Dedue asks.

“You’re all Mr. Silent and shit,” Sylvain complains while tracings the wet curls along Dedue’s lips. He parts them slightly, stroking long strokes against the hot, throbbing folds. “See? No moans, no cursing, no ‘oh, Sylvain’ or whatever. I’d think you hated me if you weren’t so fucking wet.”

“I–“ Dedue closes his eyes and steadies his breath. “I hate you a little bit,” he gasps. “A little bit right now,” he says with a content sigh.

“Uh huh,” Sylvain says skeptically while sliding down the bed and pushing Dedue’s legs apart. “Whatever you say,” he agrees while licking long and slow into him.

It’s enough to stop his heart, or at least it feels that way. Dedue throws his head back, biting his lip and furrowing his brow as Sylvain maintains steady, leisurely licks. He gropes blindly for Dedue’s hand, and when he finds it, he pulls it to rest on top on his head as he sucks sloppily on his clit.

Dedue fists his hand into his hair and Sylvain lets out a loud moan in response. The vibrations shocking throughout Dedue’s entire body, making him grab on harder and for Sylvain to groan even more.

He spreads his legs even further, enough for the muscles to burn in the best way possible. Sylvain’s red hair bobs up and down as he laps enthusiastically at him. Kissing and groaning. Licking and sucking. It’s almost too much, but not enough all the same. He pushes on the back of Sylvain’s head. Asking for more without having to say anything. Small pants breaching from him without permission as he’s overwhelmed by the almost forgotten sensation of pleasure.

“You’re so good,” Sylvain’s praise is muffled by the roar of Dedue’s pulse in his ear. “You’re so good,” he groans again before going back to his work.

Dedue’s body is hot all over. The edges of the small inn room they’re in blurring away as he focuses more and more only on the pleasure building into a tight coil inside of him. He has to remind himself to remove his hand from Sylvain’s head, worried he’ll forget and rip a chunk out of him, and grips the sheets instead.

Sylvain can sense the tension building and focuses entirely on licking and sucking on his clit. Seeming unperturbed by the lack of air or tightening of Dedue’s thighs around his head, he follows along without pause. Unrelenting even as Dedue’s entire body stiffens and shudders, he rides the waves of pleasure with him as Dedue gasps, trembling and twitching.

When that becomes too much for Dedue, but not in a good way, he taps Sylvain arm. Sylvain pops up with the entire lower half of his face glistening and his hair wild.

“I can keep going,” he offers.

Dedue huffs. “Yes, but I don’t think I can.”

Sylvain laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Fair enough. Do you mind if I…?”

Dedue nods. “Is there anything you require from me?”

“Nah,” Sylvain assures him while slipping out of his own boxers.

He crawls up the bed so he can straddle Dedue’s waist. Running his hand up his own thigh before replacing it with Dedue’s. Dedue squeezes gently before mimicking the motion and stroking up and down. His fingernails scratch against the hair covering them, dark enough that the red is almost brown, the same shade as the trail that leads from bellybutton to below.

Sylvain’s fingers follow along, pushing away pubic hair to part his own folds with a moan. It’s slick. Wet enough that Dedue can feel him dripping onto him as Sylvain strokes himself.

“It’s like I’m riding you, huh,” Sylvain comments while lifting himself up enough that he can rub circles against his entrance. He groans while pushing a finger inside of himself, pulling it out a second later, and replacing it with two. “Ah, should try that sometime,” Sylvain bites down on his lip and moans at the taste, his tongue flicking out to lick them. Carefully, he bounces his hips up and down, his eyes closed in concentration while he fucks himself on his fingers. “With something bigger though.”

Dedue doesn’t have a response for that. As he pictures it his grip on Sylvain’s thigh tightens and his heart starts to thump out of control. Sylvain dripping with sweat. Sylvain red faced and dizzy from pleasure. Sylvain moaning without shame as he tells him how good he is. How good Dedue feels. How he wants more.

Yes. Adequate.

Sylvain rolls his hips forwards, just enough that he’s almost, barely rubbing against the exposed pink of Dedue’s swollen clit.

“Do you like that?” Sylvain asks.

“Hmm,” Dedue replies noncommittedly.

Sylvain cracks an eye open and pouts. “You’re going to make me sad,” he whines. “Do I have to try and make you jealous or something?”

Dedue rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

Sylvain shrugs and closes his eyes again, once again focused on riding him. “Hey,” he says between pants. “You never know. Maybe I’m thinking about someone else,” he bites his lip, moaning in an exaggerated manner. “Maybe I’m not even worried about you.”

Dedue squeezes his thigh gently. “That’s fine.”

“Uh huh,” Sylvain leans forward, his ass poking out in the air as he pushes a third finger inside himself. His frame shakes, and he has to prop himself up on Dedue for support as he thrusts in and out of himself. “Is it fine e-even,” he stutters between gasps, “even if it’s Dimitri?” He chokes on a whine, his movements even more hurried as he rests his head on Dedue’s chest. He pants against him, the shape of the letter D silent on his lips as he teases Dedue.

The mention of Dimitri is a shock, but not one as shocking as Dedue’s own response as an involuntary moan rips through his chest. Sylvain pauses for a second, before letting out something that is equal parts gasp as it is laugh and continuing to push himself harder and deeper inside.

“Fuck,” Sylvain swears, a small cry escaping his lips. “Is that it? You want to see Dimitri fuck me?”

Dedue wants to be angry about the teasing, but the image is… enticing. For Sylvain to be stretched thin around Dimitri, fucked mercifully speechless as Dimitri holds him still and–

As Dedue throws his head back and moans, he thinks about how this particular part of his sexuality was not something he had expected to discover today.

Sylvain, unsurprisingly, takes this as a victory. He pushes himself back up, leaning back on one arm so his entire torso is stretched out and in view as he pushes his fingers in and out of him in quick, forceful thrusts. He bounces up and down, the muscles of his thighs rippling from the exertion, while his skin glistens with sweat.

Tiny _ah ah ahs_ fall from his lips with curse words strewn between. A few phrases of encouragement that seep right into Dedue and leave him feeling drunk. _It’s so good. You feel so good. Fuck, you’re so good._

It’s a tad bit infuriating, the smugness Sylvain exudes as he finally gets what he wants and pulls a reaction from Dedue.

It’s mostly hot, however, so he tries to not think too much about it as he pushes Sylvain back to rest more Dedue’s thighs. With more space he’s able to stroke himself in time with Sylvain’s praise, guiltily holding a mental image of Sylvain wrapped around Dimitri’s cock in his head.

It doesn’t take long for him to come again. This time, the orgasm that falls over him more intense than the last. It comes in waves, arching his back and stopping his breath. Threatening to steal all cognitive thought and leave him gasping and stupid for life. Sylvain follows him through it, grinding wetly against his thigh, as he digs his nails into Dedue’s skin and cries out.

It’s a lot. Probably far more intense than either had expected. Sylvain collapses on top of him in a limp, sweaty pile and sighs.

“’m not movin’” Sylvain decrees. “I live here now,” he lazily pats Dedue’s chest and Dedue does not argue.

* * *

In the late morning Dedue presents Dimitri with a pair of knitted mittens with the price tag discreetly snipped away.

“Oh, these are lovely!” Dimitri exclaims. “You’re far more skilled than I expected. Not to say I doubted you, I just, I mean I expected a half finish scarf if I’m being honest.”

Dedue tries not to think about the fraction of a scarf he had thrown under his bed upon his arrival home a few hours ago.

“Well,” Dedue starts a sentence he doesn’t have an end for. “Here you go,” he finishes lamely.

“Then you had an enjoyable evening last night?” Dimitri asks. “I have to admit, I was a bit lonely without your company, but I tried the solitary crafting and it was genuinely really relaxing. I didn’t make anything as professional as yours, I expect I need a few more nights of practice, but ah there’s time, right?”

Dedue nods along as Dimitri rambles on about his quiet night in and the importance of inner reflection.

“What about you, Dedue? Did you learn anything about yourself while working on your crafting project?”

Dedue freezes. Once again, unprepared for a question he should be prepared for. “I–well,” he clears his throat. “Friendship,” he says, his tone more confident than he feels.

Dimitri mulls it over before agreeing. “Yes. I think you are on to something.” 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/biheretic) along with my curiouscat. and ofc like always comments are always loved and appreciated even if it's for this garbage heap
> 
> edit: shsjdjs my girlfriend wants me to write a sequel with dimitri so i might but bejsjdjdj no promises


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